Breaking Silence
by HemingwayCav
Summary: Mac must face his past to embrace his future. Mac and Lindsay pairing. This is a repost.
1. Fading, but Not yet Forgotten

_**I own not one of these characters, they are the property of others.**_

_**Chapter 1: Fading, but Not yet Forgotten**_

Silence.

Mac was changing, shifting, growing, and becoming a man he hadn't known or seen in years, a man he wanted to squash and subdue because he was without anyone to love. The slowly fading breath inside an old beach ball just months ago had trapped him in an unrequited act of devotion and fidelity, it was this unseen that had blinded him. He hadn't felt the need to live aloud or to live at all, but he was too strong to die, and grief exploited this quality and turned him to stone, a creature cemented by loss that felt neither pain nor pleasure. Loss cloaked a passion that no one could will him to overcome until she came, she was savior to a man many saw as a god.

No matter how much the rest of the city pulsed and celebrated, lived and loved, laughed and screamed, there was always a reverent quiet here, occasionally broken by the ghostly whispers of those gone too soon. The final resting place of so many demanded respect, Claire was among them. Her empty coffin was miles away upstate, but here in this place of mourning and survival was her body, where Mac felt her spirit, where Mac felt connected to all that was left of what she was.

Was he here to ask for permission, to apologize, to search for a way out – no, out wasn't what he wanted and he had come too far to seek permission. The idea of an apology he considered, it held weight, after all he'd recently forgotten to think about Claire everyday, he sometimes forgot the sound of her voice while concentrating on the sensations of the present, the warm body that shared his space, the living body that could warm him where Claire's memory chilled him.

The fresh smell of her hair, the soft stilted cadence of her voice, her newness, her uncertainty, she was nothing like Claire. She was nothing like Claire, but in ways she was, she found his laughter and joy and pulled it to the surface, she chipped away at his stony façade and engaged him, she intoxicated him with her new eyes in an old city.

Lindsay. She held his future. What she said. What she whispered two nights ago while they sat curved into one another, folded around one another in understood and perfect silence is what drove him here tonight to say what, I'm sorry and goodbye, but could he. Her words broke the quiet that night and replaced it with silence, something austere, they were left without an understanding, the curves and folds became two separate lines, two distinct beings suddenly uncoupled.

Mac's low tone graveled, "It will be fine, Lindsay. This is good." He said it, but did he believe it, had he sold his words to Lindsay, no, because they still sat divided. It wasn't that he never thought of his life taking this turn, everyone wanted to leave a legacy, everyone wanted a level of immortality, some did it through greatness, by belonging to the masses, but many more did it be leaving behind children that they had nurtured to leave the world a better place than they found it. It had never happened with Claire, but they were never at the right place in their lives, there was never enough attention or joy to spread around between the two of them much less small likenesses that constantly demanded and made it those demands a pleasure to satisfy. He wanted this, but there was a gnawing, a guilt that wouldn't let him fully enjoy the moment. He looked over at Lindsay and wondered what she could be thinking, knowing she picked up on all his moods, sensed his highs and lows, normally she would offer comfort, but she had so much to lose in this moment, more than he did, and Lindsay's face told him now was the time to climb the mountain, get to the other side once and for all, move beyond ghosts and then make amends to the woman before him now.

Was this work she wondered, was she work, a moment of self-doubt followed by self-reproach, doubt was dangerous she knew it was in those moments that mistakes were made and lives ruined.

Her response feigned hopefulness, but failed, "It will be. It is – fine."


	2. The Words Wouldn't Come

_**Chapter 2: The Words Wouldn't Come**_

How long could he stand before he admitted defeat and carried himself back to the emptiness of his apartment to what was slowly becoming the emptiness of his life? When did commitment to the dead become fear of the living, when did loneliness no longer stand as testament to a life long love now gone and become fear, a fear of moving on, a fear of forgetting what was. Claire was not coming back, Claire would understand, Claire is not hurt by your loving again, no matter how many times he said these words to himself, no matter how many times these words rang in his head, reverberating along the insides of a thick skull, Mac still refused to fully hear. He heard the idea of it, he even understood the logic of it, and yet he stood frozen to this spot where all his hopes had tumbled down, where everything he ever had swallowed a final breath. It was just that, everything he ever had, it was something long gone, now he had something else, something beautiful that his stagnation was breaking down and destroying. He was sabotaging his new love, relegating himself to the ranks of those who walked through life not living it but going through the motions until death called their name, he was again becoming a space filler. In the days, after the search had ended he often thought he was a ghost a figment of someone else's imagination he walked the walk of the dead and almost expected to find himself amid the wreckage and rubble. Where was he going? Where had he been? What did he want?

He wanted life, he wanted to keep breathing the sweet intoxicating air of tender love that Lindsay brought to his everyday. Lindsay told him he could have it, his for the taking, with the simple demand that he love her, that he hear her, that he see her, and he did, with a quiet zeal, with a cool passion. Mac turned to walk away to try again tomorrow, he told himself he would keep trying until he succeeded, but he knew Lindsay wouldn't wait as long as he was willing to take. As he turned towards home, you could see the faintest outline of a woman with her hands outstretched and a cloudy tear perched at the corner of her eyes as her mouth moved, but Mac couldn't hear her because when his back was turned there was nothing there.

Lindsay stood in Mac's kitchen with salty trails streaking the rosy unblemished skin of her cheeks while her mouth drew in silent gulps of air and her hands wrapped themselves around her still flat middle. She didn't here the door open or sense Mac standing behind her, she was absorbed by her growing apprehension, her developing grief, and he silently joined her and let her have and own this moment.


	3. Death as Rival

_**Chapter 3: Death as Rival**_

She didn't acknowledge where her footsteps were taking her, the graceful stride hid her troubled heart, but her clenched gloved fist spoke of an iron will, a determination, a need to prove her worth and solidify her place in his world. She had seen the site in pictures, from the distance, but she had never stood and faced what was both the pride and pain of a city, a people, a nation. There is where Mac anchored himself she thought, there is where the guilt of being the one left behind ate at him, there is where he went when he wasn't home with her. It would seem that those touched by death and tragedy would welcome joy, she had been painted in both, but it didn't own her, tragedy didn't keep her from feeling every inch of her life. If anything, it pushed her and cajoled her upwards and beyond, even at the cost of friendship, though this city had brought the closest friendships of her life – Stella, Danny, and through him Flack. She couldn't turn to them now, she wasn't even sure they knew, they suspected, Danny more than the rest, but Mac he was her greatest friend and in her heart her sole confidant, so forward she walked.

In Mac, she found a kindred spirit someone who understood that drive, someone who knew the world could be better if only they worked harder, in him she found the final few answers she sought in this life. She was whole without him, but she was better with him. Was he whole without her, she knew the answer was no, there was some piece of him there, a piece she needed, and during her walk she knew it was a piece she would have. She never gave up, she never gave in, she was willing to accept the consequences, what she wasn't willing to accept was weakness, reservation, or regret. Her thoughts had melted the blocks away and when she arrived, it wasn't what she expected to see.

Lindsay didn't know what she expected, it seemed so open, so silent, dare she say so empty, she expected life to be everywhere, teeming and exerting its will, mourners prostrating their bodies ravaged by tears, people on their knees reciting prayers, it was the reverence that surprised her, the still beautiful grace. Not even the howling winter winds seemed to penetrate, here the wind was a tickle, the brush of a baby's breath against your ear as they slept on your shoulder, in this place, nature subdued its will and bowed in worship. Lindsay stood and looked all around taking it in, being washed by torrents of sadness, joy, regret, guilt, sorrow, perseverance, celebration, and love. This was her adversary, not the woman, but the emotions and everything Claire could stand for in death, in death she was perfection, the living could never hope to match the saintliness of the ones gone in the hearts of those left behind.

Lindsay thought, then why try, she was here, Claire wasn't and it should be as simple as that, logic dictated that. She shook herself free of selfish thoughts to register Mac walking towards her, hands in his pockets, brow furrowed, eyes dark, she matched his stance and temperament with just a slight shuffle of her feet, the response of the coupled.


End file.
